


World Turned Upside Down

by An_Odd_Idea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Basically Endgame with Peter as Tony, Crying Peter Parker, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Irondad feels, Natasha Romanov Does Ballet, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Dies, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Snaps, Reunion, Sad Peter Parker, Tony disappears instead of Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/pseuds/An_Odd_Idea
Summary: What if Tony disappeared on Titan instead of Peter?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 51
Kudos: 368





	World Turned Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> This started as just a short scene of how I thought Peter would react to Tony getting dusted, but it kept growing.
> 
> It’s a little different from my usual style, and I leave a lot to the imagination, but I think it works for this type of story.
> 
> Please do not copy, print, or reproduce outside this site, I don’t want to get sued.

  
Something was wrong.

Peter could sense it. Everything was wrong.

“Something’s happening,” said the bug lady, and then she was gone.

Peter stared. She wasn’t just gone. She was _dust_ , blowing away in a wind he couldn’t feel.

The tattoo man was next, then the footloose guy, and finally Doctor Strange, dissolving away with a regretful expression. Peter turned, wondering if it was over, wondering if he was next, when all at once his senses started _screaming_.

“Kid?”

Tony stood unsteadily, just a few paces away. He stumbled, his face going practically gray.

In half a second, Peter had made it to him, just in time to catch him as his knees gave out. This couldn’t be happening. He was injured, he was just hurt and tired, surely that was it and they could fix it, but Peter’s senses continued to shout _danger_.

“No no no, not you,” he begged. “Mr. Stark please-“

“Pete.” Tony clutched at his back, nearly falling, and they both sank to the ground.

“Please don’t go!” Peter could already see his skin turning to dust and hugged him tight, like he could hold him there. Like he could keep him together.

“It’s okay.”

 _Nothing_ was okay.

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter choked out. 

He clung to him. Tony let out a shaky breath- it must have hurt- and Peter’s arms slipped through dust in the air. A small cry escaped him as he tried to grab it, to pull it back, to force it to take shape again, but it was gone.

 _Tony_ was gone.

Peter stayed where he had fallen, kneeling in the dust of a strange planet, his arms covered in dust that he didn’t want to think about. The world closed in, fuzzy on the edges.

“He did it,” said the blue girl.

She was the only one left besides him. Peter lowered his head, taking in a shuddering breath and not even caring about the tear that slid down his cheek. More followed.

He hugged his arms close to his body. There was dust on his arms. All that was left.

 _Tony_.

He wanted Tony. Tony would make everything okay. He’d pat him on the back and say, “We’re alright, kid,” and take him home. Peter wanted to go home.

...

Nebula was pretty cool, Peter thought. She had sat quietly with him while he calmed himself down from a panic attack, and then she had helped him up and taken him to the Guardians’ ship. The fuel cells were cracked, but he had thrown himself into action to fix them, and they were racing along now, stars flying past in a blur.

Peter’s hands, which had been trembling feverishly throughout the repair, now gave up altogether and hung limp and useless at his sides. He crept to find Nebula again, and found her sitting alone with her head in her hand. He sat next to her, just like she had for him on Titan.

“You knew Quill?” she asked, after a long silence.

Quill. Footloose guy. He was dust now. 

“Not really. I just met him, um, today I guess.”

“He was an idiot.”

“Yeah.” Peter wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh, but he forced out a breath that sounded far more like a sigh. “I kinda am too, sometimes.”

They lapsed into silence.

“What _happened_ to them?” Peter ventured to ask.

“Thanos did what he set out to do. He used the Stones to wipe out half of all life in the universe.”

Peter gripped the edge of the table hard. “So he, I mean, everywhere?”

“Thousands of planets.”

May and Ned surged to the forefront of Peter’s mind. He felt sick.

“Where did they all go?”

“Erased from existence.”

Peter’s stomach churned. He needed to get away, somewhere, anywhere but here. He stumbled jerkily to his feet. Nebula didn’t look up, but he mumbled something about going to lie down anyway before passing out on the floor.

...

Their flight didn’t last long. Soon they were drifting, helpless, suspended in space like a model aircraft in a child’s bedroom. Peter stared out the window at the sea of stars. Tony had never liked looking at stars. He didn’t say why.

Peter fiddled with the sleeve of his suit. The metal one had lost power long ago and sat neatly in the corner, but this one was the only clothes he had, besides one of Starlord’s jackets that just felt wrong to wear. His webshooters were in pristine condition, even had a little web fluid left, and he toyed with the cartridge. He still made the cartridges and the webs, but everything else in the suit was from Tony. It made him feel some sort of way, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet.

If Tony were there, either with him or instead of him, Peter wondered what he would do. Probably get them home, no problem. He was good at that kind of thing. Peter sighed and hugged his knees to his chest. It felt heavy, and it hurt.

Tony wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. He was gone, scattered across the surface of Titan, stuck to the surface of the metal suit, probably in Peter’s lungs, too. He wasn’t Tony anymore.

For the first time since passing out in front of Nebula, after which he had floated in a strange, dreamlike state, Peter crumpled. He buried his head in his knees and sobbed, as every emotion he’d been holding in for the sake of survival burst out all at once. Not wanting Nebula to hear, he screamed soundlessly, fingers tangled in his hair.

...

  
As far as Peter knew, running out of oxygen wasn’t such a bad way to go. He was pretty sure he’d pass out long before the actual dying part, and that was nice. He could pretend he was just falling asleep.

He’d hugged Nebula goodbye; they’d gotten to be sort of friends after weeks in a spaceship together, but she was still mostly solitary. She didn’t say anything about being together, and he didn’t ask her to.

So now he was watching the stars out the window, alone, for the last time.

When he was little, Ben had told him good people became stars when they died. They had found his parents’ stars, and he had spent hours gazing at them and feeling safe under their light. Years later, through a blur of tears, he had found Ben’s star, too.

He peered out the window and found a slightly blue-glowing star. Tony’s star. He didn’t really believe in the story anymore, but the thought was strangely comforting all the same.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” he whispered to it. “I don’t know if you’re listening or not, but I’m coming pretty soon, too, I guess.”

It was hard to ignore the fear that filled his chest.

“And I’m kinda scared. Actually I’m really scared, but I’m okay. I’ll just… fall asleep, and then I’ll wake up and see you, right?”

Peter hoped so.

He didn’t look for May or Ned’s stars.

...

When Peter saw Pepper, he broke. She was so scared but so hopeful, and she knew Tony had probably been with him. He couldn’t even look at her. He collapsed in Captain America’s arms and began to cry. It felt like all he would ever do now was cry.

“It’s all right, son,” said Steve, and he picked Peter up like he weighed nothing and carried him into the compound.

Nothing was all right, and Peter wasn’t his son, but he clung to him all the way to the medbay.

...

Pepper was there when he woke up, but he didn’t have the energy to cry anymore or even tell her he was sorry. She gave him a little smile, but her eyes were red. Peter wondered if she already knew.

“Hi sweetie.” She took his hand, slowly, like she was afraid to startle him.

“Hi,” Peter whispered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” There was so much unsaid. “Did Nebula...”

“I know.” Tears sparkled in the corners of Pepper’s eyes, but she gave his hand a squeeze. “She told me.”

That was a relief, but only a very small one. “I really tried to save him.”

“I know. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

Peter knew, but that didn’t make it any better.

...

He should have looked for May’s star. And Ned’s. He found them now, sniffling on the roof of the compound.

There seemed to be more stars out here than in the city. Maybe that was just his imagination.

A quiet footstep made him turn his head, and Black Widow herself stood there, watching him.

“Hi.” Peter sniffled again, trying in vain to dry his face with his hands.

“Hey.” Natasha didn’t move from where she stood, and it was honestly a little creepy.

“What’re you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Peter shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“On the roof?”

“I spend a lot of my time on roofs, believe it or not.”

Natasha sat down beside him, dangling her legs fearlessly off the edge of the building like she could stick to walls, too. To be fair, no one had ever told him she couldn’t.

“So what’re you doing up here, though?” said Peter.

“I thought we could talk,” said Natasha. “Spider to spider?”

“Sure.” Somehow, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care that she knew.

...

Natasha kept a pair of ballet shoes under her desk. Sometimes, especially after meetings with the people who were left, she would put on music, very softly, and dance. Peter didn’t watch often, he felt bad spying even if he was sure she knew, but he always felt in his heart when she was.

Sometimes she asked if anyone had seen Hawkeye, but nobody ever knew. She always danced after those meetings, her movements long and sorrowful, even her jumps seeming to hang in the air.

Peter didn’t dance. He spent many of his nights in Tony’s old lab. Technically, it was his lab now, but that felt wrong to say.

The bots were there, along with old suit designs that Peter never touched. Well, except for once, on a particularly bad night, when he went to the old suit in the corner and put its arms around him. Sometimes he talked to that suit while he worked, on nights when the room felt too big. It made the lab feel more like home, almost like everything was right again.

He asked Natasha to teach him to dance.

...

Time travel.

Peter had thought about it, imagined it, even, but he hadn’t known what he’d actually do. He never got past wanting to hug everyone he had lost, tell them he loved them one last time.

But now...

Now, things were different. Now, he wasn’t alone in the lab anymore, and although it was different with Scott and Bruce and Rocket, it was good. Now, there was a plan.

If only he could make it work.

...

She didn’t see them in a minute.

Hulk fell to his knees, hitting the surface of the time machine with a thud. Clint still hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t need to. Peter’s hands fumbled as he passed the Space Stone to Steve.

Hands tried to hold him back, but he was stronger than all of them and dashed away, back to the lab.   
  
He felt lost in it, as lost as he had felt the first time he went in after Tony was gone. Not knowing where else to go he sat down on the floor at the feet of the old suit, hugging his knees to his chest.

He hadn’t wanted this. He’d wanted to make things better! That was why he’d helped build the time machine in the first place, to bring everyone back, not to take more people away.

Too many people had already been taken away.

...

Peter braced himself, but the alien never hit him. Instead, the unmistakable whine of a repulsor sounded, and a moment later, metal hands were helping him to his feet.

“Well Strange did say it’s been five years, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but look at you, kid! Can I still even call you that?”

Peter felt frozen, like his brain didn’t work anymore. He just stared. 

He must have fallen, that was the only way he could have ended up in Tony’s arms so suddenly, and then he was hugging him almost tightly enough to dent his armor. He tried to speak, to say anything he had said to that stupid empty suit in the lab for the past five years, but his voice still didn’t work. He buried his face in Tony’s neck.

Tony hesitated- Peter remembered belatedly that he had never been one for hugs- but then his hand moved to the back of Peter’s head to cradle it, and the feeling was so safe, so strangely familiar, that it brought tears to his eyes.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I’m here, kid.”

...  
  
Thanos has taken enough. He’d taken Tony. He’d taken May. He’d taken Ned. They’d lost Natasha trying to undo it all.

Thanos wasn’t taking anyone else today.

The Stones were a screaming pain in each finger, all merging together to run up his arm, and he knew what he had to do. Thanos was coming, Tony was shouting, and there was one last chance to make it okay.

Peter snapped.

The world exploded in blinding white light. He was falling, at least he thought he was falling, and then he wasn’t anymore and he was lying on the ground with his entire right side on fire.

There was a scuffling sound: feet running toward him, and then Tony filled his vision, quick-moving and scared. Peter wasn’t sure why he was scared; they’d won, hadn’t they?

“Kid?” Tony’s voice shook, and his hands hovered over Peter like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Peter wanted to tell him it was okay, but for some reason his body didn’t seem to obey him anymore. That was scary, he had to admit.

“Peter?” Tony’s suit went away so he could touch the good side of Peter’s face with his real hand, gently supporting his head with the other.

“Hi,” Peter whispered.

He felt wrong. Everything felt too slow and heavy, like he was falling. He didn’t like it, and he reached out for Tony.

“Okay, okay, I got you, Pete.” Tony was hauling him into a relatively upright position against his chest, holding his head in the crook of his arm. “You’ll be alright.”

Peter was starting to be pretty sure he wouldn’t be.

“You look right at me,” said Tony, leaning over him so that he didn’t really have a choice. “You did good, you did so good. We won.”

“We won?”

“Yeah.” Tony smiled at him, but there were tears caught in the lines of his face. “All cause of you, Spiderling.”

“S’good.” Tony was starting to look a little blurry.

“Hey!” Speaking of Tony, Peter found himself shaken slightly. “Eyes on me, buddy.”

“S’ry.”

“No, no sorry. Just stay here, alright?”

Peter wasn’t sure if he could. His right side was still burning, and he was still falling. Or sinking. Everything was muffled, like being underwater now.

“Please, please don’t do this, kid.”

Peter felt Tony’s lips press his forehead and let his eyes slide closed, even though it hurt his heart to hear the way the man’s breathing hitched. He was sinking, deeper and deeper, barely registering Tony’s forehead against his or the words repeated so softly that only he could hear them.

“I love you, Pete. I’m right here, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Tony was there. He was back, and he was okay. May should be back, too, and Ned. The world was okay again. 

Natasha was waiting, and Ben, and his parents. 

It was all right. It was finally okay, and Peter was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, or come visit me on tumblr @an-odd-idea
> 
> Please do not copy, print, or reproduce outside this site, I don’t want to get sued.


End file.
